Othello
by MissMune
Summary: This was a game of Othello, and he was going to win it. Oneshot.


The sound of key strokes filled the room, bouncing off of the darkened walls and returning to their creator

A/N: First fan fiction in a while? First fan fiction in a long time.

Not much to say, really, but this was inspired by the first Digimon 02 movie, mainly because I was wondering where Ken was and what he was doing while the Digidestined were missing for who knows how long. I'm still not sure WHEN that movie took place (nor does it matter to me that much), but for the sake of this story I pretended that it was during the Digimon Kaiser's reign.

That's about it. Hope you enjoy.

Oh, and in addition, "Othello" refers to the game, not the play.

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Digimon, nor do I claim to. I don't make a profit from this, etc.

--

The sound of key strokes filled the room, bouncing off of the darkened walls and returning to their creator.

Clack. Clack. Clack.

The noise was paid no mind. The source of the sonance was far too captivated by his thoughts; of his plans. Eyes were focused firmly on the glowing screens in front of him, the only things that dared to light up the room.

They were a window to a beautiful, peaceful domain. He was attempting to fix that. His progress was proudly displayed in another screen. Black squares overwhelmed the white, like some malformed checker board.

But no, this wasn't checkers he was playing. This was a game of _Othello_. The pieces were constantly switched back and forth - white, black, white, black, white, black - and, at the moment, he was winning.

Of course he was. He was a genius, and his opponents? His opponents were nothing more than a few feeble minded children. They would never claim enough of the board to win. It was almost sad that they thought they could.

The clacking of keys ceased abruptly. The figure in front of the keys sat stiffly, a scowl suddenly evident on his face which, despite still being one of a child's, was sharp and unwelcoming.

"Fools," he muttered to himself, resuming his typing, "What did they think would happen if they left this world unattended?"

A piece flipped from white to black.

"Hmph," he scoffed, before allowing himself an unpleasant grin. "Well, no matter," he continued, seeming to speak to himself. "The lack of distractions is a pleasant surprise, don't you agree?"

Silence.

Silence followed by immediate fury. The solitary figure stood briskly, eyeing something with hate unable to be hidden by his shaded glasses. "You will _answer_ me when I speak to you, pathetic worm!" he snarled, reaching for a whip coiled at his side and cracking it.

"Ye-yes, Master," a voice responded shakily as it stepped out of the shadows. It was, indeed, a worm or something akin. It was visibly wary, "Of course, I agree," it said quickly.

This seemed to appease its master, for now, as least. The boy huffed and was seated again. "Of course you do," he affirmed smugly.

The gentle clack of keys began once more. The boy seemed to have renewed fervor, as white piece after white piece became black. His face was indifferent with every new area that was conquered. He refused to enjoy his winnings. It wasn't enough.

They weren't here.

Hour after hour passed and more pieces became black, so that it seemed that white would soon become a distant memory. Yet the figure hadn't found what he was looking for.

At some point, he had began to mutter to himself after every new conquest: "No." And then he would move on.

"No."

Again.

"No."

No, they weren't in that quadrant, either. But they were here, he was sure they were here. Those fools wouldn't leave the digital world without its 'heroes' for so long. It had been days. They weren't that foolish.

They knew what sort of power he wielded.

"No."

"K-ken," the bug suddenly addressed the figure, concern intertwined with fear in its voice, "You've been working at that for days, why don't you take a break?" The figure didn't so much as pause, which meant to the worm that he simply must have not heard him or was paying him no mind.

"No," the figure said again, tired eyes wide underneath the reflected light of his glasses. No. They were here. They were here. He knew it. They had to be here. They _had_ to be!

Another black piece was added to the board.

"K-ken," the worm repeated, in something barely more than a whisper, "Do you… miss them?"

The typing stopped abruptly. Silence hung in the air. "Miss them?" hissed the boy, "_Miss them_?!" he snapped, pulling himself off of his chair in a fury and appearing in front of the little creature. Ire seemed to exude out of his very being.

The over-sized caterpillar covered its head with its claws. It knew what was coming.

But no strike was ever delivered, neither from whip nor boot.

The boy merely stood there, shaking with outrage. "Get out of my sight," he ordered, turning on his heel and stomping back to his terminal.

"Ken…"

"_Get out of my sight before I remove you, MYSELF_!" he thundered, clenching his fists tightly. He awaited the continuous tapping that would signify that the creature had finally left. He listened carefully as the sound grew softer and softer until he could no longer hear it.

_Miss them? _He repeated in his thoughts as work resumed.

"No." No, not there, either. He was running out of places to look.

The mere idea was laughable. They were a nuisance; they only kept him from completing his goals. One doesn't miss pests. One doesn't miss _insects_.

"No." His voice was starting to become slightly unsteady. A few more areas and –

They were not missed. He was so close to his goal, now. He was going to win. There was only one more white piece left. Only one. All he had to do was switch it. Not something terrible difficult.

"…No." He said, stopping his typing. The white piece continued to mar his beautiful collection of black pieces. Silence reigned as the boy stared at the singular piece.

Without a word, he lifted himself off of his throne. Boots hit the tile heavily as he exited the darkened room, stopping only to glance back at the screen - at the little bit of white.

"Hmph."

One could hardly win a game of _Othello_ without any opponents.


End file.
